


Coffee Confessions

by Baroness_Blixen



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, early season msr, mulder is jealous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 21:05:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15081716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baroness_Blixen/pseuds/Baroness_Blixen
Summary: Names are a funny thing, aren't they?





	Coffee Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to this prompt: “Scully, why is that guy calling you Dana?”

“Scully, why is that guy calling you Dana?” Mulder asks, his eyes still on the grinning barista, whose eyes follow Scully’s every move.

“It’s my name, Mulder.” One eyebrow rises as she takes a sip from her overpriced coffee. A droplet sticks to her bottom lip and she licks it off before Mulder can have any inappropriate thoughts. He clings to his own plastic cup; just as expensive, just as frivolous. But the barista did not call him by his first name. Or his last name. He didn’t even get a smile, or a sympathetic hello. Scully, however, did. 

“I know that, but…" 

"But what?” Scully takes another sip and makes that noise. The one Mulder has been trying to make sense of for months. A catch between a hum and a sigh. A moan perhaps. He’s heard her hum a few times. She does it in the car sometimes. It sounds terrible, always. Yet Mulder can’t imagine telling her to stop. He’s never heard her moan, though. Not in pleasure, that is.

“You don’t even know him.” Mulder is dimly aware what he sounds like. A lover. A jealous one at that. He hides his pout behind his coffee cup. It’s an iced one, cool and bitter. Just like his feelings. A perfect match.

“I don’t?” Scully, her lips against the cup, leaving a trace of her lipstick, turns around to face the barista. As if sensing her attention the young man lifts his head and grins at her. Mulder watches, his blood boiling, as Scully returns the gesture with a smile and, he swallows his gasp, a giggle. 

“Enjoy your coffee, Dana!” The man, who can’t be older than 20, shouts and several people turn to look at her and Mulder briefly before they return to their own interests. 

“His name is Ben,” Scully, her smile still in place, holds the door open for him and Mulder steps through, anxious to get away from this place, “he is really nice.” They walk slowly, their steps matching. 

“You’re on first name basis.”

“You’re the only one who calls me Scully,” she say, amusement in her voice. 

“I call you Dana sometimes.” His answer is defensive, his jealousy seeping through his words. He hopes that Scully doesn’t catch it.

“You do." 

Mulder knows that he is not her whole life, never has been and never will be. She has her family, friends, too, he thinks. And, as he now knows, a barista. One who looks at her like a lovesick puppy. He almost spits out his coffee.

"Are you all right, Mulder?” Scully’s hand is against his back as he coughs. Ever the partner, ever the doctor.

“I’m fine,” he says, his voice unstable. He clears his throat. 

“Does it really bother you that much?” They’re waiting at a traffic light. Mulder stares at the red sign, watches the cars pass them by. They’re not alone here; it’s lunch time and they are surrounded by people just like them. Business attire, coffee cup in hand, always in a hurry. “Mulder?” Scully nudges his shoulder with hers. What is he supposed to say? What does it matter if he is bothered by it?

“I just - do you want me to call you Dana?” The light changes to green and all around them people rush by. Neither he nor Scully move. He’s caught her off guard. Her eyes are big and staring up at him.

“No, Mulder. I like - I like that you’re the only one who calls me Scully.” If he’s not mistaken, a small blush crawls over her cheeks. She hides it by drinking from her coffee. But her eyes remain with him, almost shyly.

“So that guy calling you Dana…”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” Scully assures him. “Nothing at all… Fox.” They both groan in unison and Scully, because of him this time, giggles.

“What is it about your name, Mulder? You let everyone else call you Fox.” This time when the light changes to green, he puts his hand on her back and they walk. 

“It’s not that I let them, Scully,” Mulder says, stopping her on the side of the street by holding her wrist tightly between his fingers. He doesn’t want to do this walking. Thinking about it, he doesn’t want to do this at all. This was supposed to be a quick coffee run, not an intimate conversation about them, about their relationship. Mulder feels like laughing. They can’t do anything like normal people. Maybe, after all, they’re nothing like all these people running past them.

“You are the only who’s ever taken me seriously. My parents… well, they’re my parents. Phoebe never cared. No one did. No one but you.” Scully is quiet, but her fingers are not. They’re dancing about the cup nervously. She takes another sip and Mulder watches her lower her hands, is mesmerizes by the small hint of cream that clings to her lip. This time she doesn’t lick it off, not right away. Mulder wonders what she’d do if he did it. All he has to do is lean closer. He licks his own lips in anticipation. Scully watches him and opens her mouth, either to say something or maybe dare him to do. He takes a step forward and then she is pushed against him, their coffees squashed in between them. 

“What the…" 

A small man runs past them, yells something Mulder doesn’t catch, and lifts his hand in apology before he disappears from sight.

"Scully, I’m so sorry.” His hands hover in the air, uncertain what to do. There’s a huge coffee stain on her blazer and her blouse. She sighs, dabbing it with a napkin.

“Not your fault, Mulder. Let’s go back to the office. I need to change before our meeting with Skinner.” They start walking again, quicker this time. The moment is gone and Mulder isn’t sure whether he feels relieved or not.

“Do you want a sip?” Scully’s question surprises him and he stares at her, then at the proffered coffee cup.

“You’re offering me your special coffee that your favorite barista made just for you? For Dana?” He points at her name written in big, bold letters.

“Drink or don’t, Mulder. Don’t be an idiot.” Mulder takes a sip and is surprised by the sudden sweetness. 

“It’s not too bad,” he says, giving it back to her. She nods before she, too, takes another sip. Mulder’s insides tingle when she makes that noise again. Definitely a moan, he decides as they make their way back to the office. He’s sure about that.


End file.
